The Mystic's Apprentice
by The Storyteller of Dreams
Summary: Ra's al Ghul wants a weapon that can kill anyone, and so he turns to magic. Damian does not care for the mystic arts, but what Grandfather wants, he gets, even if the former Robin has to die several times to attain it. Damian never wishes to be a magician, but he will have to be one if he wishes to survive. (Part 2 of Rise of the Demon series)
1. Homecoming

**The Mystic's Apprentice**

Summary: Ra's al Ghul wants a weapon that can kill anyone, and so he turns to magic. Damian does not care for the mystic arts, but what Grandfather wants, he gets, even if the former Robin has to die several times to attain it. Damian never wishes to be a magician, but he will have to be one if he wishes to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Superman, or any of the characters in either franchises.

* * *

The white kitten mewled discontentedly.

Damian immediately patted her head, brushing her soft fur in an attempt to calm her _(and himself)_. Aurora wriggled uncomfortably in his arms, but after a few minutes of petting, she settled back down somewhat. Her blue eyes still glanced around warily at the luxurious interior of the plane though, and every now and then the kitten would look at his grandfather and pawed his chest disapprovingly.

Damian couldn't blame her.

Across the plane, Ra's al Ghul smiled.

"Is that a Javanese cat?" He asked.

Damian was instantly on guard _(why was he asking? Was he going to use Aurora? Ra's al Ghul never did anything without any ulterior motives)_ , but forced himself to relax. His grandfather noticed, however, and his smile widened. Inwardly, Damian cursed. His time with the Bats had softened him.

 _(He could remember a time when he didn't flinch at his grandfather's sinister, multi-layered queries; so arrogant and cold that he didn't care for anyone. But years of kindness and free affection had changed that. Somewhere along the way, he gained a heart, and hearts were very easy to break if one knew how.)_

 _(Ra's al Ghul did.)_

He glanced down at Aurora. It was hard to differentiate between a Javanese and Siamese cat, given that the former is descended from the latter, but being the animal lover he was, Damian could easily tell. Both breeds of cats shared the same svelte, but muscular body, but they differ in point colours. The darker points of the face, ears, paws, and tail came in solid colours such as red and cream, for example, and a Javanese cat's eyes were always a deep, vivid blue.

 _(Like Father's, and Richard's, and Jon's, and…)_

"Yes, I believe it is." Damian replied after a cursory glance.

"You believe, hmm?" The query caused Damian to frown. Did he slipped up somehow? "So it's a new pet?"

"She." He corrected automatically.

The Demon's Head raised an eyebrow, but remained amused. "Ah _, she_ is your new pet?"

"Yes." The teenager answered warily.

"I see." Ra's leaned back leisurely, tilting his head questioningly. "A present from the Thief, I take it?"

"She's not a thief," stated Damian immediately.

Again, the Demon's Head arched an eyebrow. "No?"

 _I slipped_ _ **again**_ _,_ Damian cursed quietly, even as he tried to fix the damage. "Selina has retired from that life."

"So you call her 'Selina' now…" Ra's mused idly, causing a brief flare of panic to shoot up inside the former Robin.

"It has been five years since the marriage." Damian tried vainly to reason away his apparent closeness with Catwoman. "It is…inefficient to maintain hostilities when one has to work together often."

"Of course." Ra's smiled genially. The former Robin knew that the Demon's Head didn't buy his excuses one bit.

Thankfully _(or not)_ , he seemed content to let it be. Damian watched warily as his grandfather's gaze shifted from the cat in his arms to the old watch on his wrist. His expression was a practised mask of pleasantries, but Damian was certain that Ra's was plotting something behind that inscrutable facade.

"That watch looks a little old, no?" He began.

Through gritted teeth, Damian replied. "It's a gift."

"Oh?" His grandfather faked surprise and curiosity well, but Damian had always knew what a snake he was and refused to fall for that. "It's a little old for a teenager, no? Shouldn't a smartwatch be more fitting?"

He pursed his lips, refusing to answer. So far, his words seemed to betray him, giving information to the Demon's Head piece by piece. This time, he would use silence. After all, silence couldn't betray him.

 _(What was that his mother taught him…?)_

The silence lasted only for a moment before Ra's spoke, acting as if he didn't notice Damian's reticence.

"Now why would someone give a teenager an old watch?" He questioned rhetorically, the sharp mind that challenged his father time and time again gleaming behind his inscrutable mask. "Perhaps it is a memento? Is it a gift from your father?"

Instinctively, Damian tensed, quickly covering the watch with a hand. He realised his mistake too late.

Ra's al Ghul smile was triumphant.

 _(The lesson he forgot: Even your silence can betray you.)_

"A memento from your father?" The Demon's Head mused idly. "Then I assume it was _his_ father's before he gave it to you. A gift from father to son. A family heirloom."

Damian remained silent, staring straight at him.

"Oh, Damian." He chuckled, lounging back at the plush sofa. "You have truly gone soft in your time with your father, but that is your mother's mistake for leaving you with him."

Ra's smiled at him.

"It's a mistake we will rectify, right, Grandson?"

* * *

He received a whole apartment as his accommodation.

Damian frowned as he stepped into the large apartment, the ninja guiding him to his new quarters standing silently outside his doorway. Ignoring him for the moment, the former Robin surveyed the spacious rooms _(a kitchen adjoined to the living room. Two ensuite bedrooms with queen-sized beds. A study. Windows overlooking the Andes mountains)_ , before letting Aurora down to explore her new surroundings. As the kitten curiously peered around a cream sofa, Damian turned to face the ninja.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" His grandfather's minion asked, voice tonelessly polite.

Damian pursed his lips, thinking. If he asked for anything, he would undoubtedly be in his grandfather's debt, no matter how innocuous the request may seem. On the other hand, Aurora needed care and facilities which he couldn't currently bring by himself, and he didn't know how long it would be before Ra's let him out on missions.

"Perhaps some cat toys, facilities, and food wouldn't go amiss." He said, hiding his reluctance with a gesture towards Aurora.

"I will see what I can do." In other words, Ra's would hear of his request and add it as another favour towards him. "Is that all?"

Damian nodded.

"Very well," the ninja bowed, "Lord Ra's expect your presence in an hour."

So soon? He didn't even give him time to settle down. What was that old man planning? Questions ran amok in his mind, but Damian gave none of it voice.

"Very well then." Damian nodded, then turned away in a clear dismissive move he learnt from watching his mother. The ninja needed no further words. He bowed once more and went away, closing the door behind him.

Damian knew that though he was out of sight, it did not mean he was out of mind.

And the former Robin _knew_ that the Demon's Head didn't only post one guard to watch him.

But that was an issue for later. Kneeling down next to Aurora, he scratched her head. The kitten purred as he smiled wanly down at her. "Let's look for the bugs Ra's planted, huh, Aurora?"

The cat didn't understand him, but she meowed in what Damian could pretend was agreement. She trailed after him as he began combing the apartment for any hidden mikes or cameras, the kitten even joining in on the search after he showed her what he was looking for. Her enthusiasm made him smile, and he was glad that he decided to bring her along or else the loneliness would have crushed him by now.

 _(Funny, before he wouldn't even have noticed, but now, after spending so long in the warmth of family and friends, their absence was a huge, cold gap.)_

Within half an hour, Damian had found and crushed 46 'bugs'.

Aurora stood proudly on top of the pile they found, head held high and meowing loudly. He gave her a faint smirk and a pat. "Good job, Aurora. I think that's everything."

 _Unless he hid more,_ he thought pessimistically, but shook that thought away for now. Aurora was purring, butting her head against his palm for more scratching. Seeing her, some of the weight in his heart lightened.

"Now let's prepare for my meeting with Ra's," said Damian as he scooped her up in his arms and headed to his bedroom.

* * *

Standing at the entrance to the grand hall, Damian resisted the urge to play with the hem of his green tunic.

Instead of playing with his tunic's hem like a child, Damian instead patted Aurora's head. The kitten's presence briefly drew the stares of the ninjas guarding the hall's entrance, but a quick glare from Damian solved that swiftly. He was certain that after this rumours would circulate around the League about his presence, and questions would rise at his insistence to bring Aurora everywhere, but he didn't care. There was no way he would leave Aurora alone in the apartment.

 _(She was one of the two links left Damian has to Gotham.)_

Based on counting his own heartbeat, Damian guessed that it has been five minutes since he was told to wait in front of the entrance. He wanted to check with the old watch his father gave him, but he resisted the urge. The tunic's long sleeves hid the watch, but he didn't want to draw attention to such a precious memento. There was no way to hide Aurora—sitting on his shoulders as she was—but he could at least hide the watch.

 _(Too many times had 'accidents' happened to his pets and precious items in the League. It was a lesson to never treasure anything. Goliath was the only exception, but Damian suspected it was only because of his uniqueness.)_

Then the double doors opened, and he was ushered in.

What seemed to be the entirety of the League was there, though Damian knew that it was only a fraction of the League's true numbers. A roll of green carpet parted the sea of black-clad ninjas, opening up a path to the raised dais at the far end of the hall. On the left and right walls, fire roared from torches, casting a sinister red glow throughout the room. Another pair of torches was set on the dais, and on the centre of it, there stood Ra's al Ghul.

Shoulders squared and head held high, Damian entered.

He could feel their attention crushing him like a tidal wave the moment he stepped in, but Damian stood tall and proud as he walked towards the dais. His steps were neither slow or rushed, but measured and assured, just the way he learnt from childhood. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a flash of red streak on black hair. Mara al Ghul, his cousin. She watched him from the side with the League's other elites, gaze piercing, but he didn't acknowledge her. Calmly—as if his pulse wasn't racing—Damian came to the dais and knelt before the Demon's Head.

Aurora, perhaps sensing the seriousness of the situation, leapt off his shoulders and stood to the side.

 _(Bless Selina and her choice in cats.)_

Damian bowed his head in apparent submission, and waited.

"Today," Ra's al Ghul raised his arms in a grand gesture, his smile wide, "one of our own has returned home!"

As if on cue, the assembled ninjas stomped their feet in unison.

"Long has my grandson strayed from the path of the righteous, led astray by his father, our enemy the Batman!" The Demon's Head continued, lowering his arms, but his voice was no less strong. "But now he has seen the truth, and came back to us of his own volition."

 _Lies,_ Damian thought viciously, glaring at his grandfather's feet, _All_ _ **lies**_ _._

Yet it was a necessary lie, he knew. This speech, this ceremony…it wasn't for _him_ , nor the top elites that knew what Ra's was truly like. It was for the underlings; the mindless minions and mooks that made up the bulk of the League's army. They needed to know that the League of Assassins was right, that their cause was just and worth believing…and if they didn't do so, they should know that _no one_ —not even the Demon's own family—could escape Ra's grasps.

 _(Or rather,_ _ **Ra's**_ _needed that to be true.)_

The Demon's Head placed a hand on Damian's shoulder.

"Damian al Ghul," for the first time in years, Damian heard himself being addressed with his mother's surname, "do you swear to uphold the beliefs of the League of Assassins, to fight in my name, and die protecting this world?"

 _No._

"Yes."

He couldn't see it, but Damian imagined Ra's smiling. "Then we shall test your conviction."

Alarm bells rang in Damian's head. He stared at the floor as Ra's moved, mind whirling. _Is he going to as me to kill?_ He thought, feeling sick to his stomach, _Can I kill? Even if it's for Jon's sake…can I break Father's creed?_

"Remove your tunic."

Damian blinked, taking a second to process that unexpected request. Glancing up, he saw Ra's holding a branding iron to a torch, the fire heating up the League's symbol. Relief flooded him as he saw it. _Oh, he wants to brand me, not force me to kill._

 _(Twisted as it was, Damian prefer anything over killing.)_

Obediently, Damian quickly took off his tunic. Warm air hit bare skin, and Damian drew a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he bowed his head and prepared for the pain.

 _ **Agony**_

His back arched instinctively, a scream barely held back in his throat. Damian would not— _could not_ —show any weakness here, not in front of the League. But _oh,_ the _**pain**_ _._ Bright and searing, each second extended for an infinity. His hands formed fists, clenched so tightly that blood flowed down his fingers. Distantly, Damian could hear Aurora mewled in distress—her voice loud in the uncaring silence of the hall—but he couldn't notice her, the burning pain overtaking his senses.

Then it was done.

Damian gasped as he struggled to keep himself kneeling. Head bowed as he breathed deeply, the former Robin blinked back tears as a drop of blood landed on the green carpet. _Oh,_ he realised distantly, _my lip is bleeding._

Aurora rushed over to him, her tiny head butting against his fists while she mewled loudly. That was when he noticed his hands were bleeding too. He must have bit his lips and clenched his fists too tightly while holding back his screams.

Aurora continued mewling, licking his wounded hands in an attempt to help. Damian wished to soothe her distress, but he was afraid of staining her white fur with blood. More than that however, through the lingering haze of pain, he realised it wasn't over yet.

In front of him, Ra's al Ghul ordered.

"Rise."

And through the pain and humiliation, Damian did, the permanent symbol of his submission on his back clear for all to see.

 _(His feet shook with effort. If it wasn't for the lingering pain, his face would have been red with rage. As it was, Damian could hardly muster the will to stay conscious.)_

Ra's al Ghul smiled.

"Welcome home, Damian."

* * *

 **FUN FACT**

 _"...he caught a flash of red streak on black hair. Mara al Ghul, his cousin..."_ \- Mara al Ghul first appears in the first arc of Teen Titans Rebirth. So I'm not making her up.

Originally, I wanted to leave Aurora out of this fic, but as I was writing _The Disappearance of Damian Wayne_ , I realised that I need her to give Damian something to hold on to while he's coming to terms with his situation. If she wasn't there, then this chapter would be all angst and darkness, and well, as interesting as it may be, I'm a firm believer that tragedy without comedy or heartwarming moments is boring, and will eventually lead to apathy. It's the contrast between light and dark, despair and hope, desperation and contentment that makes a story truly interesting, and the stronger the 'light' is, the more you can delve into the 'darkness'.


	2. The Mystic

**The Mystic's Apprentice**

Summary: Ra's al Ghul wants a weapon that can kill anyone, and so he turns to magic. Damian does not care for the mystic arts, but what Grandfather wants, he gets, even if the former Robin has to die several times to attain it. Damian never wishes to be a magician, but he will have to be one if he wishes to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Superman, or any of the characters in either franchises.

* * *

The bed was agonisingly soft on his back.

Damian groaned, his back still burning from the branding. After the ceremony, he was allowed to go back to his apartment with the caveat that he was to meet Ra's early the next morning. Once there, he found a large medical kit laid on top of his living room table. Damian was no fool though, recognising that it was another favour his grandfather would later collect, but he was also much too pained to complain. So reluctantly, he had opened the kit and slowly bandaged himself.

 _(Alfred was better at this. If he was here now, Damian would expect a lecture on safety. God, it has only been a day and he missed 'home' so_ _ **much**_ _.)_

Giving up on comfort, Damian tilted his head to the side. The moonlight reflected off his watch—which he still hasn't removed—showing the time in Gotham. His heart ached. His family should be out on patrol by now, if they weren't investigating his disappearance. Oh, who was he kidding? They were most definitely looking into it.

Jon could have initially dismissed his absence in the morning as him being called back to Gotham for an emergency without waking him up. It happened often enough, after all. The half-Kryptonian would be suspicious, however, if there was no new incident reported in Gotham. Then it would be easy for Damian to imagine Jon calling Alfred, or fly to the manor himself to berate him for leaving without saying goodbye _(and check up on him)_ , and when he would inevitably discover that Damian hasn't returned home…

Or maybe something _did_ happen in Gotham _(a suspicious coincidence)_ , and Jon would think nothing of his disappearance, thinking that Damian had went back to help his family. Still, even if that _did_ happen, Bruce would be suspicious if he didn't come home before patrol, especially if he didn't report his whereabouts beforehand. Then it would be simple for his father to call Clark, find out he disappeared last night, and then…

Whichever way it went down, by this time tonight, the Bats should already know he was missing. The question was, how long would it take to link it to Ra's al Ghul? How long would it take for them to find him?

 _(After their first meeting, it took two years for Damian to see his father.)_

And what would he do when they meet?

He groaned, placing an arm over his eyes. Damian didn't want to fight them, but Jon's _life_ was at stake. Could he outrun them? Outhide them? And what would he do if they were in the way of his mission?

 _(What would he do when Ra's order him to kill?)_

Damian _couldn't._

But he would have to.

Yet he didn't _want to_.

"Argh!" He smacked his head against the sheets, his back protesting at the sudden movement. The former Robin didn't notice the pain, however, too torn up from such an emotional turmoil.

"Meow."

Slightly startled, Damian glanced to the side. Aurora had jumped up to his bed and sat next to his head. The white kitten leaned down, whiskers brushing his cheek as she rubbed her head against his. A small smile unwittingly came to his face, and Damian sighed as he turned to cuddle against his pet.

That was right…there was no point in being wound up on the future. It would take days, if not months for Ra's to trust him to take missions, and hopefully when the time comes, Damian could avoid further staining his hands with blood. Tonight, he would rest and prepare for whatever trials would come tomorrow.

Try as he might though, sleep eluded him.

* * *

The morning light flooded Ra's spacious office. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind the Demon's Head stretched from wall to wall, offering a panoramic view of the Andes mountainside. The hardwood floor was carpeted by a large, green carpet embroidered with the League of Assassins' symbol in black. A large TV was placed on one wall, framed by crossed scimitars on either sides. On the other wall, a row of bookshelves filled the space, some of its books new while others were ancient. Right across Damian though, sitting at a desk with his back to the morning light, sat Ra's al Ghul.

Ra's smiled. It felt like an opening move in chess.

"Come in, Grandson," He called, gesturing to the sofa in front of him without rising from his seat. "Take a seat."

Reluctantly, Damian did so, noting from the corner of his eyes that the ninja who had guided him had retreated and closed the door behind him, no doubt guarding the entrance. The only other obvious exit would be through the reinforced windows and straight into the sheer cliffs below. He wasn't that desperate _(yet)_.

On his shoulder, Aurora shrank on herself and hissed as he approached Ra's.

Taking a seat, he noted the presence of a bald, diminutive woman. Her face indicated an Asian descent—perhaps Tibetan?—and her plain, white robes was unique among the blacks of the assassins. Perhaps she held a unique position? If so, what was it, and what does she have to do with him?

The most striking thing about her however—and the one detail that immediately drew Damian's attention—was her eyes.

Her eyes were pure, blank white.

 _Is she blind?_ Damian wondered, focusing his attention back to his grandfather. _Or is it a sign of some power? Is that why she's here?_

 _(He remembered how Starfire's and Raven's eyes would glow whenever they use their powers, the energy they summon covering their irises. Was this woman's eyes an indication of alien genealogy, or magical powers?)_

"Let me introduce you two." Ra's said, hands clasped loosely on top of his desk. "Damian, this woman will be your personal magic teacher, the Mystic. Mystic, this is my grandson, Damian al Ghul."

Damian frowned, hating being referred to by his mother's surname. Still, there were more pressing things to attend to. "Magic teacher?"

"Yes," Ra's smiled enigmatically, refusing to elaborate.

Damian bit back a sigh of frustration. "Why do you want me to learn magic?" He gritted out. "I do not _care_ for the mystic arts."

The Demon's Head chuckled, as if Damian was missing something. "Magic," he began, "is a very powerful too, and an even more useful weapon, yet so many so-called magicians are unable to utilise it to its fullest potential because they lack the discipline and mindset that assassins are born and bred with."

 _("No weakness, no hesitation, no mercy." His mother had taught him. "Do anything and everything for the mission.")_

He didn't have a choice, did he? At least, not with his friend's life hostage. Still, something nagged at Damian. "If magic is so useful, then why don't you learn it, Grandfather?"

 _(He hated calling this man by that undeserved familial title, but it was necessary to at least keep up the pretence of obedience he had to show while in the League.)_

"Ah, but I did." Ra's sighed, but didn't look overly distraught. "Alas, those who were not born with magic in their blood have to rely on arcane methods and rituals to achieve the same effect that Homo Magi like Zatanna Zatara can do with a snap of her fingers and a few backwards words."

"There is, however," the Demon's Head smiled coldly, "a way for regular humans to become Homo Magi. Perhaps even _stronger_."

Damian swallowed, stating dryly. "I assume that this requires an enormous amount of pain and high chance of dying?"

Ra's chuckled. "Naturally."

Damian glanced at the silent woman next to him. "And if I survive, you will teach me magic."

"You will not survive." The Mystic replied apathetically, blank white eyes staring straight ahead. "You _will_ die, and you will be revived. If your mind can survive the Pit's waters, then we will try again. And you will most likely die again."

Throat suddenly dry, Damian stared at her before looking back at his smirking grandfather. "Lovely." He muttered. "When do I start?"

Ra's chuckled once more. "Soon, Grandson. But first…"

He gestured to the magician, and the woman conjured a scroll in a flash of white light. Next to it, a feather pen floated helpfully. Damian stared at the contract written on it, feeling distinctly like he was selling his soul to the devil.

 _(Considering his grandfather, he most likely_ _ **was**_ _.)_

"We need to ensure your cooperation." His grandfather said as the sinking feeling in Damian's gut grew worse. "I'm sure you understand the necessity."

He _did_ understand, and Damian hated him for it, because written on it was:

 _If I, Damian al Ghul Wayne, ever reveal the truth of what happened on my 16th birthday or divulge the secrets of the League of Assassins to outsiders without the express permission of my grandfather, Ra's al Ghul, then I shall forfeit my right to live. This contract is valid until the death of my grandfather, Ra's al Ghul._

In other words, if he tried to reach out for help from his family and friends, he would _die._

Unbidden, a stray thought rose up, _Is Jon worth this?_

Damian immediately bashed that thought away as he reached for the pen. _Of course_ Jon's life was worth it. He was his _best friend._ That was _more_ than enough reason for Damian to sign the damn thing.

The scroll glowed red once he completed his signature, coalescing into a ball of light. Then it charged at his throat, turning into thick red coils that wrapped around his neck, mouth, and nose. Instinctively, Damian reached up to pull it off, but after a warning squeeze, the red coils disappeared on its own.

"Now," his grandfather sudden sound startled him, and Damian turned to see the Demon's Head smirked, "let us begin the Awakening."

* * *

The Lazarus Pit's sick green glow illuminated the rugged cavern.

Damian scowled as he gazed at the Pit, disgust rising up like a bile in his throat. In his arms, Aurora squirmed, obviously uncomfortable being near such an abomination. Taking pity on her, the former Robin let her down, watching as the kitten immediately dashed away to a dark corner.

In front of him, with the glow of the Pits behind him and the shadows casting a sinister mask on his face, Ra's al Ghul smiled. "Let us begin."

Next to Damian, the silent Mystic approached him, the rustle of her robes the only noise he heard from her. She stood in front of him, blocking his view of his grandfather. Her blank white eyes stared straight through him, right into the very core of his being. Still, Damian stared right back, unafraid.

"You are not scared," said the Mystic, tone still apathetic.

Damian lifted his chin up proudly. "No."

"You should be." She sighed, finally closing her eyes and raising her hand. For a brief moment, she looked tired. "You will die."

Then her index finger touched his forehead, and Damian—

Damian _died._

* * *

 _Cosmos shattered before his eyes._

 _Soul rend from his body, the world spun in inverse. He fell through the cavern's ceilings, to the sky, up to the celestial stratosphere, and into the inky darkness of space. There, he floated suspended among the diamond stars, his core laid bare before the scorching gaze of the sun._

 _Then the sun_ _ **burned**_ _solar-white, and_ _ **he**_ _burned, and suddenly he spiralled down…_

 _Into madness._

 _Colours the likes he never seen—never even_ _ **dreamed**_ _of—streaked past his soul,_ _ **through**_ _his soul. Light and darkness whirled around him, clashing against each other in lightning-white strikes and spinning harmoniously in an eternal dance. Gaps split open in the stream of unreality; tears in the fabric of space-time torn wide open, enticing, tempting, and_ _ **daring**_ _one to explore the multiverse's wonders and terrors._

 _He saw…_

 _Worlds came to life and ruin, alternating between thriving and desolate in a blink of an eye._

 _Gods of old and new; warring, conquering, ruling, before dissolving into cosmic dust._

 _Stars burst into supernova, spreading cosmic particles through endless reaches of space, before coalescing into a person, whose death heralded the birth of another star._

 _And he saw…_

 _A timeless entity ruling over a dark realm. A bat crashing against a window. The ancient god's eyes on him._

 _A demon smiled._

" _ **You…"**_

 _And Damian died._

* * *

The Mystic sighed, lowering her hand as the boy's body collapsed to the rocky floor. She didn't need to check to know he was dead. She knew. Through her mind's Eye, she saw the boy's aura flared up when her finger touched his forehead, exposing his soul to the mystical forces of the multiverse. Unseen by him, she had protected his soul from the demons which sought to consume him as he journeyed through the realms both real and unreal, but the raw mystical energy he was exposed to was too much for him to handle.

He was dead, but at least his soul wasn't stolen by some demon because of her.

Unfortunately for him, the boy still has to deal with the demon next to her.

"Well, this is unfortunate." Ra's al Ghul tsked. "But it is expected. We must simply try again."

The Mystic neither spoke nor acted. Her blank white eyes continued staring ahead, but she saw everything through her Eyes. The aura of her captor—the same sick green of the Lazarus Pits muddled with sparse bits of his original earthen colour—glowed coldly around him, slithering and shifting over his skin like a snake's. It matched his uncaring expression as he picked up his grandson and lowered him into the cursed life-giving waters.

It was only when heard the wordless, ominous hymn of the Pit rose into a crescendo through her mind's Ears did the Mystic turned to face the Lazarus Pit.

And stared.

The sinister choir rang out across the wide cavern, a song only her Ears could hear. Underneath the rising crescendo however, was a softly ringing sound. Bright like a peal of bells, ringing out in a steady, but quiet rhythm. The Pit's cruel orchestra easily drowned the light sound, but she was able to hear it thanks to years of listening to the music of the universe instead of the humdrum droll of reality.

And that was when she Saw it: a quick, tiny flare of multicoloured light in a sea of boiling, broiling bright green.

A tiny speck of unreality.

As the Mystic watched, she silently reassessed the boy, Damian al Ghul.

 _Perhaps he has potential after all._

* * *

 **FUN FACT:**

" _(After their first meeting, it took two years for Damian to see his father.)"_ — In my personal headcanon, Damian met Bruce when he was 8, then took on the Year of Blood when he was 9, became Dick's Robin when he was 10, and then became Bruce's Robin and died for the first time when he was 11. He was 12 when Robin: Son of Batman occurred, and 13 when he reformed the Teen Titans. You guys are free to disagree, of course, but personally, I like this best because otherwise everything (him meeting Bruce, Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul, being Dick's Robin, being Bruce's Robin, and dying) would happen within the span of a _year,_ and that's too cluttered and stretching implausibility too much. And yeah, this means that, in this fic, Bruce left Damian to Talia for 2 years. This is going to be addressed later on.

"… _Homo Magi like Zatanna Zatara…"_ — Taken from DC Wikia: 'A sub-race of naturally magic-wielding humans. According to Doctor Mist, the Homo magi evolved in a parallel but separate line, alongside Homo sapiens. Homo magi are naturally adept at magic; since many humans possesses the Homo Magi gene because of their relationships in the distant past, these humans can learn to use indirect magic by perform rituals, but pure Homo Magi or their direct descendants can use direct magic, too.'

" _A timeless entity ruling over a dark realm. A bat crashing against a window. The ancient god's eyes on him."_ — Can you guys guess who this is? I'll give you a hint, look up Batman Lost (part of the currently ongoing Dark Night Metal series) ;)

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I've written up until chapter 4 of this story, and I'll be releasing the new chapters weekly. However, after that I'm going to take a short break to focus on completing my outline for this fic and later stories. Why am I doing this? Because I thought at first that I could write a long, multi-chaptered fic and several stories long series without planning. In hindsight, that was rather arrogant of me. Without some kind of structure or support, the moment I realise that I accidentally wrote a plot hole, or make a mistake, it'll be too late for me, and I'll feel demotivated to fix it because fixing that requires rewriting the whole story from scratch. In the end, I'll most likely abandon the fic. I don't _want_ to do that however, so that's why I'm going to start properly planning and outlining my stories. I hope you guys understand! :)


	3. Fractures

**The Mystic's Apprentice**

Summary: Ra's al Ghul wants a weapon that can kill anyone, and so he turns to magic. Damian does not care for the mystic arts, but what Grandfather wants, he gets, even if the former Robin has to die several times to attain it. Damian never wishes to be a magician, but he will have to be one if he wishes to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Superman, or any of the characters in either franchises.

* * *

 _The green gave life. The green gave death. The green gave both in equal measure._

 _It drowned him. It saved him. It raised him from perdition only to sink him into damnation._

 _In the waters of the Lazarus Pit, Damian's green eyes shot open._

 _The waters whispered:_

" _Live."_

" _Die."_

" _You are saved."_

" _You are cursed."_

" _This life you have…"_

"… _Is not yours."_

" _Ours to give…"_

" _Ours to take…"_

" _Live…"_

"… _Though you do not deserve it."_

" _Die…"_

"… _Though that shall not touch you."_

" _Your life…"_

"… _Is ours."_

" _To give, to take…"_

" _To live, to die…"_

" _ **Forevermore, you are one with us."**_

 _And as the waters sweetly sang its cursed song, Damian screamed._

* * *

"Interesting," was his grandfather's first words when Damian resurfaced, shaking terribly and gasping heavily. Trembling as he dry-heaved on the cold stone floor, the former Robin missed Ra's assessing gaze. "It seemed you came out of it mostly unscathed."

 _Unscathed!?_ Damian wanted to scream, but his voice failed him. With his vision blurring and swaying, he could barely afford the energy to sit up, let alone shout. _That was 'unscathed'!?_

 _(There were_ _ **things**_ _there, in the waters. Visions. Whispers. Sickly sweet and cruel, twisting his thoughts and invading his soul. Was that how Jason felt when his mother revived him?)_

"There is something in him." He barely heard the Mystic spoke, her monotone voice slightly accented by distant curiosity. "It prevented the Pit's madness from truly touching him."

"Is that so?" Ra's hmmed in thought. Damian heard his footsteps drew nearer, but he lacked the strength to raise his head. He didn't have to however, as Ra's hooked one finger under his chin and lifted his head to look him in the eye. His grandfather's expression was one who had stumbled upon an interesting and pleasing object—distantly amused, but also uncaring. "What have your father exposed you to, Damian?"

Damian shivered, unable to answer.

"You don't know?" The Demon's Head seemed disappointed, but not surprised. He sighed and stepped back, standing straight once more. "Well, I suppose that can't be helped. I'm sure that we will get to the bottom of this later, right, Grandson?"

Damian shivered again, but this time, it wasn't because of the Pit.

"For now though…" His grandfather nodded to the Mystic, who took it as a sign to approach him. With his head bowed, Damian couldn't see Ra's smile, but he could certainly imagine it. "…Shall we continue with the Awakening?"

Instinctively, Damian flinched, wishing he could scream _'No!'_. But he could barely move, let alone stand and shout, and so he was helpless when the Tibetan woman knelt down in front of him and raised a hand to his forehead again.

"This will hurt," she said tonelessly, her apathetic expression not even bothering to be reassuring. "You will most likely die again."

Before Damian could protest, the Mystic touched his forehead and—

Damian died again.

* * *

 _Once more, his soul was rend from his body._

 _This time he was dragged into the bowels of the earth. Gasping, screaming, thrashing—every action he took was futile as he tried to claw his way back to the diminishing light. Invisible hands grasped him tightly, plunging him into an infinite abyss, where light has abandoned all to darkness._

 _Silence crushed his soul._

 _Then—_

 _Thousands of red eyes blinked open, pinning him with their predatory gazes._

 _Hundreds of maws opened, fangs gleaming white as their mouths gaped open like all-consuming black holes._

 _Tens of thousands of hands reached for him, clawing at him, pulling and pushing and tearing—_

 _Damian_ _ **screamed**_ _._

 _And the universe_ _ **shattered**_ _._

 _Falling through the multicoloured fractures of reality, he stumbled and tripped over the many tears of space-time. Rainbow pieces of the multiverse rained down on him like falling mirror shards, streaking past him like meteors and cutting through his soul. Reflected in those prismatic shards of unreality were glimpses of infinite possibilities; enough what-ifs and maybes and what-could-have-beens to shatter a soul._

 _He saw…_

 _His father—aged and alone—watching a Batman in a sleek futuristic black suit fly through a foreign Gotham._

 _His mother, crying in a hospital room as she held a baby—_ _ **him**_ _—in her arms. A nurse came along with a couple; and wiping her tears, she gave him to them._

 _Himself, a mere baby held in his father's arms. His mother was conspicuously absent, but his brothers and sisters rounded on his father to take a peek at him, all of them smiling and eager and welcoming._

 _His heart ached at that last glimpse, and he reached out to grabbed it. A fist was enough to contain that tiny speck of blissful possibility, and memories of that world sped through his mind. His first word was 'Da', his first steps were towards his oldest brother, his second eldest brother taught him how to fight, and when the time came, the third brother willingly gave the mantle of Robin to him instead of being forced to do so._

 _Here, in the dizzying spiral of multicoloured possibility, his soul couldn't cry, but sadness and longing pierced him nonetheless._

 _Tighter he gripped that shard of what-if, until it cut into his soul._

 _And tighter still he held it, wishing it was truth, until the shard burst into tiny, glittering specks._

 _The burst shook his soul, his core, and he was sent spiralling down the rabbit hole of the multiverse. Faster and faster he fell, caught in a gravity stronger than Earth's and just as inevitable. Down the hole he fell, streaking past so many tears and rips and fractures with such speed that his soul resembled a green-gold comet._

 _For an eternity he fell, until he saw the end of the tunnel. Down and down he went, plunging through the celestial stratosphere, the roofs of the League's headquarters, the cavern's ceilings, straight to—_

 _Damian crashed into his body and died._

* * *

The Mystic shook her head, sighing. "So close."

"Perhaps third time's the charm, hmm?" Ra's al Ghul commented idly, walking over to his dead grandson's body and picking him up. The Mystic simply watched as he lowered the boy into the Pit's cursed waters.

"Tell me," her captor ordered as he watched the waters enveloped his grandson's body, "if you see _it_ again."

The Mystic nodded obediently, Eyes already on the boy's form. She didn't need Ra's order to do so, as she was already curious about the boy, but since he told her to do so, she would. "I See it."

"Describe it to me." Ra's ordered as the waters began to froth. The Pit's sickly green glow illuminated the human demon's face sinisterly.

"It is akin to a multicoloured speck of unreality." She described simply, Hearing the Pit sang its sinister song once more. Like before, she Heard the faint peal of bells, easily drowned out by the cruel orchestra of the cursed waters, but still stubbornly ringing. The Mystic tilted her head. "It's almost as if it is absorbing the Lazarus Pit's taint."

"Interesting." The Demon's Head smiled coldly. "Is there anything else?"

She stared at the boy's body for a moment more, watching with distant curiosity as the tiny speck of unreality flared brightly in defiance to the Pit's green glow. Then she shrugged, saying. "No."

Ra's al Ghul hummed, seemingly accepting her words. She could See however, his Lazarus-green aura shifting and slithering like snakes over his skin. It was obvious to her that the Demon's Head was plotting something.

 _What_ he was plotting was of no consequence to her however. The Mystic had long stopped caring about his plans.

 _(There were only two things in this world that she cared about. Two things that could still move her. And Ra's al Ghul held both in his palms.)_

Together, they watched the Lazarus Pit boil.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

" _His father—aged and alone—watching a Batman in a sleek futuristic black suit fly through a foreign Gotham." —_ A reference to Batman Beyond.

" _His mother, crying in a hospital room as she held a baby—_ _ **him**_ _—in her arms. A nurse came along with a couple; and wiping her tears, she gave him to them."_ — So apparently, in the Batman: Birth of the Demon trade paperback, Talia and Bruce had consensual sex which led to Talia getting pregnant. However, fearing that Bruce may become soft as a result of being a father, she faked a miscarriage and secretly gave away the baby (Damian) to another couple. Obviously, Grant Morrison retconned a _lot_ of this away, but the idea of Talia and Bruce having a son remained and became the Damian Wayne we know today.

Poor Damian…the story's just getting started and he has already died twice.


	4. Indigo

**The Mystic's Apprentice**

Summary: Ra's al Ghul wants a weapon that can kill anyone, and so he turns to magic. Damian does not care for the mystic arts, but what Grandfather wants, he gets, even if the former Robin has to die several times to attain it. Damian never wishes to be a magician, but he will have to be one if he wishes to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Superman, or any of the characters in either franchises.

* * *

 _The green giggled at him, singing sweetly:_

" _You're back!"_

" _You're back!"_

" _Did you miss us?"_

" _Did you miss us?"_

" _You have no attachment to life, do you?"_

" _You have such a strong attraction to death!"_

" _Too bad though…"_

"… _This life is never yours."_

" _Too bad though…"_

"… _This death is not yours either."_

" _You own nothing."_

" _You are nothing."_

" _You are a nobody."_

" _You are Nobody."_

" _Like the one you killed for your father."_

" _Like all those you killed for your mother."_

" _You are nothing."_

" _You are nobody."_

" _But don't worry…"_

" _Here in our embrace…"_

" _ **You are ours."**_

* * *

Damian gasped as he clawed his way to the surface, throat hoarse as if he had been screaming for hours. Body shaking like a leaf in the wind, he collapsed on the cold stone floor, for a moment forgetting about his grandfather's presence. Gasping arrhythmically, he vainly tried to calm his racing heart even as tears leaked out of his green eyes unbidden.

The memories of that other world remained, like fragments of a sweet summer dream. He could remember the warmth of his father's arms as he picked him up and held him as a child, the lullabies Dick hummed whenever he had nightmares, and the bruise a younger Jason kissed better after he tripped. Learning photography from Tim, accompanying Cassandra's ballet performance with his violin, making waffle with Stephanie and Alfred berating them for the mess they made in the kitchen. Watching movies with Duke, playing make-believe with a two years-old Jon, sleeping with Selina's cats. The memories remained, distorted and blurred, but clear enough to make his heart ache.

Quietly—so silently that only a Kryptonian superhearing could hear—Damian sobbed.

 _(Somewhere out there, in the infinite multiverse, there was a world where happiness could not be snatched away.)_

Footsteps drew closer, but Damian paid no attention to it.

"Rise." Ra's al Ghul ordered imperiously, but Damian couldn't hear him. Green eyes stared blankly at the shadows of the walls, mind still trapped in that far-off world. Looming over his motionless body, Ra's frowned minisculely. "I said _rise_ , Grandson."

Quietly—unexpectedly—the Mystic spoke. "Perhaps it is best to try again tomorrow."

The Demon's Head glanced at the bald Tibetan woman. "Is his soul in anyway damaged by the latest ritual?"

She shook her head, expression as blank as ever. "No."

"Then he can still continue." Ra's decided, turning away from Damian's prone body to face her. He jerked his head to his grandson. "Do it."

The Mystic bowed obediently and stepped towards him. Damian could hear her footsteps, but he didn't register it, nor the touch of her fingers as she rolled his body to his back. His green eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, still seeing the hazy dreams of an impossible world.

"Trapped," she murmured softly, in a tone that might have passed as regretful from someone much less apathetic. The Mystic gently tapped his forehead. "Perhaps this time you will be successful."

Light sparked behind his green eyes, and Damian…

Damian—

* * *

 _The pain was familiar now._

 _He gasped as his soul was forcibly ripped out of his body, images of that sweetly enticing world flickering before his eyes before vanishing as he rose to the skies. Faster and faster he went, speeding through the ceilings, the sky, and into the infinite emptiness of space. Zooming past the sun, the moon, and the stars, his soul raced through the boundaries of known space and plunged straight into the unknown._

 _Streaking through the inky silence like a green-gold comet, he saw black holes blooming like dark flowers, sucking light and matter like whirpools. Stars burning and bursting, alighting the darkness defiantly. Planets turning and whirling, rotating around suns as it spun on its own axis. Life in all its shapes and forms; alien and amazing and terrifying. Death creeping in on all; inevitable and uncontrollable and final._

 _He saw…_

 _Red—the colour of rage and burning hatred. A passion to exact vengeance on all that had harmed them so consuming that their hearts had been replaced by the zealous anger that powered them._

 _Orange—greed and avarice and desire; so overwhelming that even when surrounded by others, one is always alone._

 _Yellow—the things that whispered in the dark: nightmares and monsters and guilt. A tool that could be used for justice, but so easily misused for the opposite. It reminded him of his father._

 _Green—first to come, and present in all. The will to live, to struggle against all odds and fight against fate. A shining beacon for all in the neverending darkness of the universe._

 _Blue—like the flutters of a bird's wings, perched in the soul and singing a tune without words, never stopping at all despite the crush of despair._

 _Violet—fierce yet soft, kind and cruel in equal measure. That which could drive many to their deaths, or rewrite the very stars themselves._

 _And…_

 _ **Indigo**_

 _Warm and accepting, the creature of compassion saw him and did not judge. It opened itself up to him, and as he basked in its soothing light, the entity took in his pain and eased his suffering. Under the glow of its indigo light, his soul was healed._

" _You have suffered much," It murmured, its voice like a soothing lullaby, slowly lulling him to sleep. Sorrow laced its words; the kind, soft sadness that could only derive from true understanding of another's pain. "And you will suffer more. I am sorry."_

 _Indigo light pressed against his soul, and Damian closed his eyes._

" _Take heart, and remember: you are all the stronger for it than without. May compassion be with you."_

 _In its safe embrace, he fell into a peaceful slumber. The light pressed against him again, like a soft kiss on the forehead, before the entity sent him away. As the indigo light faded away, he heard it say:_

" _May we meet again, Damian Wayne."_

 _Darkness came, but he was unafraid. Somehow, he knew that he would be safe._

 _Damian slept the most peaceful slumber in his life._

* * *

"It is done."

The Mystic rose as she said this, watching as the boy's soul gently slipped back into his body. Curiousity pricked her slightly when she Saw a light indigo sheen covered the boy's soul almost protectively, only fading after his soul was safely back in his body. _He must have drawn the attention of a benign power_ , she noted absently, before inwardly shrugging.

"Good," Ra's al Ghul spoke. A Lazarus-green snake curled around his neck, only visible to her Sight. "We can now proceed with the next step."

The Mystic tilted her head. "Already?"

Ra's smiled. The snake around his neck watched her as if she was prey. "Ah, why waste time? It is better to get his training done as soon as possible."

 _It is not as if time will pass for_ _ **you**_ _,_ she thought, but didn't bother to voice it aloud. It wasn't in her place to question her captor, and it wasn't as if she even cared about the boy either. She sighed. "Very well."

Just as she was about to move them into her Parcosm, a small white kitten dashed out of the darkness. She watched dispassionately as it mewled in distress, bumping its tiny head against her new apprentice's motionless body. The Mystic glanced at Ra's, wordlessly questioning him about her next move.

For his part, the Demon's Head looked amused. "Take the kitten with you," he said, "Who knows, perhaps she will prove useful."

Shrugging, the Mystic looked back at her new apprentice and his cat. Reaching into the endless reserves of her soul, the Mystic pulled the three of them into her personal world in a bright flash of light. When the light faded, they were on the first floor of her tower, the eternal moonlight illuminating her grand hall through the massive windows.

With only her will guiding her magic, she wordlessly ordered a suit of armour to pick up her new apprentice and his cat. The kitten protested, clawing against the armour to no avail. She watched apathetically as they went up the winding stairs and disappeared from her view.

 _(But not from her mind. In her Parcosm, where she made the rules, no one could hide from her.)_

The Mystic approached one of the massive windows, gazing up at the unmoving mimicry of the moon she created in her Parcosm. The eternal full moon gazed back at her coldly, alone in the starless night sky she had imagined. Here, there would be no dawning of the sun, nor the setting of the moon.

There was only the night.

And the brutal training that would begin the moment her apprentice awakened.

* * *

 **FUN FACT**

"… _their hearts had been replaced by the zealous anger that powered them."_ — Red Lanterns' have their hearts replaced by the power in their Rings.

"… _so overwhelming that even when surrounded by others, one is always alone."_ — There is only one Orange Lantern: Agent Larfreeze. The Orange Lantern has the power to take over/control others.

" _Yellow—the things that whispered in the dark…It reminded him of his father."_ — So at one point, Batman was chosen by a Yellow Lantern Ring, although he didn't become a Yellow Lantern in the end.

" _Green—first to come, and present in all"_ — In the Green Lantern (2005) issue 52, it states that Ion, the Emotional Entity of Will, was the first to emerge, then followed by Parallax/Fear, Predator/Love, Ophidian/Avarice, The Butcher/Rage, Adara/Hope, and finally, Proselyte/Compassion.

" _Blue—like the flutters of a bird's wings, perched in the soul and singing a tune without words, never stopping at all despite the crush of despair."_ — This is a referenced to a poem about Hope by Emily Dickinson.

" _Violet…rewrite the very stars themselves."_ — Lol, I was listening to Rewrite the Stars from The Greatest Showman while writing this, and since I liked that line, I decided to include it in. Stars are often a metaphor for fate/destiny, so to 'rewrite the stars' means to 'change fate/destiny'.

" _May compassion be with you."_ — The Indigo Tribe's catch phrase/greeting is 'Nok', which means 'May compassion be with you'.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Right, as I stated before, this is the last chapter before I'm going on temporary hiatus to plan the rest of the story. I have no intention on abandoning this, but I want to finish the outline of this fic first because I realise that just writing by the seats of my pants isn't cutting out for me. Doing that will lead to my story being an unstructured mess, one which is tiring for me to fix (hence why all my other fics haven't been updated in ages…). I _want_ to finish this story, so that's why I'm going to need a short break. I hope you guys will understand. Thank you very much!


	5. Lose Your Mind

**The Mystic's Apprentice**

Summary: Ra's al Ghul wants a weapon that can kill anyone, and so he turns to magic. Damian does not care for the mystic arts, but what Grandfather wants, he gets, even if the former Robin has to die several times to attain it. Damian never wishes to be a magician, but he will have to be one if he wishes to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Superman, or any of the characters in either franchises.

* * *

Damian woke up without a sound.

Something soft and furry was pressed against his left cheek. Eyes still closed and breathing even, he tried to remember what happened before his consciousness failed him. The whispers of the Pit and the murmurs of another world. His soul ripped form his body for the third time, the pain still as raw as having a chunk of flesh ripped out despite being familiar now. An indigo light, compassionate and kind; soothing his pain and lulling him to sleep.

None of that told him what the furry thing against his cheek _was_ though.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, hands slowly reaching for the blades hidden in his sleeve, and saw a sleeping white kitten.

 _It's just Aurora._

Breathing out a slow exhale, Damian allowed himself to relax slightly, but tensed immediately when he glanced at his surroundings. Pushing himself up to a sitting position on the plush red velvet bed, mindful of his sleeping pet, the teenager frowned at the seemingly comfy, yet unfamiliar room.

The first thing he noticed was its size. It was nowhere near as large as the apartment given to him by his grandfather; just enough for a single bed, a desk, a chair, and some shelves pushed up against one wall. The sconces attached to the walls glowed a warm orange against the plain, brown walls, mimicking firelight on dirt structures. Damian couldn't see the light's actual origin though; there were no bulbs or actual fire, so it must be caused by magic. _The Mystic_ , he realised, frowning thoughtfully as he slid his feet off the bed and onto the green-carpeted floors, _this must be her doing._

 _(The room reminded him of Scheherazade's One Thousand and One Nights that Jason once read to him, a long, long time ago.)_

There was an opened window next to the bed. The red curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze, allowing a glimpse of the world beyond. He pushed them aside, noting that there was no glass pane in the window, nothing that could stop someone from throwing knives into the room or slipping in except a bunch of flimsy fabric. _A security risk_ , he thought, reminding himself to fix that soon if he was going to stay there for an extended duration.

A starless full moon greeted him as he placed his palms on the sill and leaned out. A dark ocean spread out to the horizon, almost pitch-black if it weren't for the silvery glints of the moon on the crests of its waves. High up on the tower, he could see where the lifeless land meets the crashing of the black waves, barren of any life save for grass. Something caught his eye, however. Far ahead, at the base of a cliff that rose up to greet the sullen moon, was a field of light. It was too far for Damian to make out any details, but the fact that it was the only other large source of light in this otherwise empty area was enough to pique his interest.

 _Where am I?_

Did Ra's sent him away to a solitary island while he was unconscious? But he couldn't be out for _that_ long could he? And if he did _(and he was certain Ra's would have to drugged him or had the Mystic magicked him to knock him out for that long)_ why couldn't he see the stars? Their absence was telling for the lack of smog that characterised pollution or the glare of a city's light. As far as he could tell, there wasn't even a cloud in the strange night sky, so why were there no stars?

 _It's as if someone ripped the stars from the sky._

That observation was not comforting for the teen, even if he knew logically that it was unlikely. Something of a scale that massive would alert the Justice League at the very least. His father and his colleagues could take care of whatever crisis that landed on Earth, and the stars would soon return to its proper place. He knew that from experience _(and simple faith)_.

He waited for a moment, but the stars did not appear.

So perhaps he could rule out extra-terrestrial intervention. Maybe there was a barrier of some sort that blocked out the stars? He could imagine someone like the Mystic capable of doing so. Perhaps she did that to keep their location a secret…

As he was mulling over his location, he heard a knock from the door. Pushing away from the window, he turned to face it. He approached the door with one hand fingering a hidden knife.

 _(Just in case.)_

Damian opened the door and saw the Mystic on the other side.

The bald Asian woman stared at him blankly, her milky white eyes as expressionless as ever. She simply glanced at him, before turning away with a single word. "Come."

Damian frowned, not moving from the doorway. "Where are we?"

The Mystic glanced at him wordlessly once more but didn't speak. She walked away calmly, as if expecting that he would keep up with her. With a quiet grumble, he followed her.

* * *

No matter how much he tried, his new magic teacher refused to speak. Instead, she stared blankly ahead, walking down the winding stairs that made up the tower. Damian tried to get answers, but her continual lack of reply eventually dissuaded him. He looked around instead, trying to get his bearings through context clues.

There wasn't much he could put together though, save for the fact that the owner of the tower _(most likely the Mystic)_ was very, very strange. There were doors that opened only to reveal walls, suits of European and Japanese armour that craned their helmets to watch them go, paintings with moving pictures, a large room with a bubbling, noxious-smelling pot in the middle of an elaborate circle and a desk laden with glittering gems and jeweller's tools, a library with flying books. It all felt like something out of Hogwarts, if there were no students and ghosts and you replace the friendly headmaster with an apathetic, stoic mentor.

And everywhere Damian looked, there were opened windows that showed the gaze of the bright, cold moon.

The Mystic led him down the stairs, past twisting corridors and labyrinthine hallways, so twisted and numerous that if it weren't for training and his eidetic memory, Damian would have gotten lost. As it was, he was mildly disgruntled by the many turns and twists, already plotting the best way to escape if necessary _(the answer was: jump out of the window)_. Eventually, the Mystic slowed and stopped once they reached a grand hall at what Damian presumed to be the ground floor. A large, locked double-door in front of them led to what he assumed was outside.

 _I wonder what it'll take to break it…_

The Mystic stopped and turned to face him.

"Tell me what you know of magic." She said bluntly, almost _ordering_ him if it wasn't for her bland tone and apathetic expression.

Startled, Damian frowned, crossing his arms. "It's the power to alter and manipulate reality to the caster's desires."

"How do you do that?"

His brows furrowed. "You need to speak backwards, do some movements, and perform certain rituals."

She stared at him. "Every word of what you just said was wrong."

The small woman began to pace around him slowly.

"Magic," she began, voice steady as a lecture, "is more than some cheap parlour tricks and altering reality. Magic is _belief_."

She raised a hand, and flowers began to bloom in the air.

" _Faith_ in the impossible."

The flower hardly resembled anything Damian could name in real life, with its rainbow, heart-shaped petals spiralling open in crackles of blue electricity. Rather, it looked like a bright, multi-colour imitation of the concept of 'flower'. Something literally ripped from one's imagination.

"The _will_ to replace the reality you _see_ with the one you _desire_."

Her hand formed a fist, and the flower burst into fireworks.

Damian stared at the space where the flower once was as the Mystic continued.

"Magic is not just some power you wield as you would your gadgets and weapons. It is more than a tool, it is a way of life." She calmly continued to pace around him, her white stare somehow piercing despite the blandness of her gaze. "Once you have stepped onto this path, forever will it dominate your life. For make no mistake…"

She stopped and looked at him in the eye.

"Magic is _life._ "

All he could do was stare at her, trying vainly to grasp the enormity of it. Magic was _life_? What did she mean by that? As if knowing that he didn't understand yet, the Mystic began pacing once more.

"You do not have to understand it yet," the words almost sounded kind, if it weren't for who it was coming from and what followed after, "but in time, you will. We all did, in the end."

Damian quietly swallowed and made sure his voice was steady when he asked, rather haughtily. "That's great and all, but you still haven't answered one thing. Where are we?"

"We are in my Paracosm." She answered, then elaborated when Damian continued to only stare at her. "A Paracosm is a 'small' magical dimension created by a magic-user. Everything you see here, I either created it out of my own magic or brought over from the real world."

She stopped at a window and gazed out at the moon.

"Time flows differently here," the Asian magician explained, the moonlight bathing her with its cold light. "You can spend years here but only a second outside. If you choose to condense the time you spent here into, say a minute of the real world for a decade in the Paracosm, then when you exit this place, all the additional hours and days you spent here will be taken directly from your lifespan."

The Mystic tilted her head at him. "Of course, it won't be a problem for you."

 _The Lazarus Pits_ , Damian thought with a scowl. Unbidden, memories of the haunting green waters came back, its insidious whispers crawling at the back of his mind. He had to suppress a shiver.

"And how long will I be staying?" He asked, trying to keep his heart rate steady, even as a sinking feeling began to appear in his gut.

The Mystic looked at him, and he wished he could decipher _anything_ from that blank gaze. "For as long as it's necessary."

 _Of course,_ he scowled at her. "Tt," he clicked his tongue against the back of teeth. "Fine then. When will we begin?"

"Now."

She grasped his hand. Startled at her sudden approach, Damian tried to pull back. Her grip was like steel cuffs on his wrists.

Piercing white gaze locked onto his surprised green ones.

"The source of magic comes from your soul," her free hand touched his chest, right at the spot where his heart beat wildly, "and your soul has already been awakened. Now it is time to awaken your senses."

She reached out to cover his eyes, and the world fell to darkness…

And _silence._

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

'… _sconces…'_ – a device that is attached to a wall to hold electric lights or candles (from the online Cambridge Dictionary)

' _It's as if someone ripped the stars from the sky.'_ – It's both incredibly funny and sad that Damian can make that sort of observation without hyperbole. This is just a quick reminder that they live in a comic book world. Also, it really tells a lot about how Damian has come to believe in heroes (like his dad and siblings) that he believes they can deal with anything.

' _She stared at him. "Every word of what you just said was wrong."_ ' – Is this familiar to anyone? It's a quote from Luke Skywalker in The Last Jedi. I know that it's quite controversial to some, but I rather enjoyed it. Fun movie, and one I would like to watch again sometime.

'… _Paracosm'_ – A paracosm is a detailed imaginary world. Paracosms are thought generally to originate in childhood and to have one or numerous creators. The creator of a paracosm has a complex and deeply felt relationship with this subjective universe, which may incorporate real-world or imaginary characters and conventions. Commonly having its own geography, history, and language, it is an experience that is often developed during childhood and continues over a long period of time, months or even years, as a sophisticated reality that can last into adulthood – Taken from Wikipedia

Originally, I thought of naming it something like Subspace Pocket/World, but then I stumbled on this word and I thought 'Oh! This is more fitting."


End file.
